


Icy Pond. 1969. (Snow on the Sumida River)

by MooseFeels



Series: Pictures at an Exhibition [2]
Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Alien Viktor, Aliens, Anxiety, Family, M/M, Meeting the Family, Therapy
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-12-20
Updated: 2018-04-17
Packaged: 2019-02-17 10:07:29
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 4,849
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13074627
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MooseFeels/pseuds/MooseFeels
Summary: Yuuri and Viktor and the Family and home and therapy and love and life.(Yuuri brings Viktor home for the New Year.)





	1. Chapter 1

Viktor’s heartbeat is a steady, heavy drumbeat all the day. It plays against Yuuri’s ribs, a steady, beautiful,  _ thump-thump-thump-thump _ . It’s not something he can hear; it’s something he feels; something he’s more acutely aware of then he’s ever been of his own heart. Viktor’s heartbeat comes to work with him. It keeps him company on the train ride from work across town to his therapist. It holds his hand on the couch. It holds something in his voice, as he sits there and talks; one a week, like he has for months now.

If Viktor’s heartbeat is always with him, Viktor himself waits eagerly at the other end of his phone.

_ How did it go? _ the message reads, when Yuuri slips out of the office and into his coat.

This is the same message Viktor always sends.  _ How did it go? _

_ It went well _ , is what Yuuri usually sends.

And Viktor always sends something back-- a heart or a smiling face. Always something, some indicator that he’s seen what Yuuri’s said.

Yuuri knows Viktor gives tours. He knows he goes to meetings and fills out paperwork. But Viktor always finds space inside of his day, every week, to ask how it went.

Viktor always finds space for Yuuri. Inside of his big house or his busy day, or inside of his own chest, where Yuuri has sat for long nights and felt the answering thump-tha-thump-tha-thump of his own heart opposite Viktor’s.

Yuuri presses his lips together. Slides on his gloves and slings his bag over his shoulder.

He’s so nervous.

He pulls out his phone once he gets on the train.

_ And you’re sure it’ll be fine?  _ he texts Phichit.  _ Yakov’s not mad? _

_ why the hell would yakov be mad yuuri _ , Phichit texts back, almost instantly.

_ literally why would he be mad you have all this vacation time and this is what yurio is in training for oh my god yuri, _ he adds, seconds later.

_ idk, _ Yuuri texts back.  _ ur sure? _

_ i swear to fuck if u keep being like this i will rat u out to yurio in a s e c o n d katsuki see if i fuckin dont. _

_ oh god, _ Yuuri texts back.

Yuuri puts his phone back in his pocket and steps off the train and takes the short walk home, down the street.

In the fall, Yuuri would walk this and see Viktor’s delicate, wide-eyed wonder at the shift of the leaves. Now though, the trees and bushes are bare but for the few remaining evergreens and the occasional bit of holly popping up into lawns. There’s no snow, just slate grey and bare black limbs and damp air.

It’s nearly four; the sun has already begun to set.

Yuuri gets home, unlocks the door and is greeted happily by Makkachin and all six of her legs.

He leans down close to her, door still open, and rubs at her ears and sides. She wags her tail happily before trotting off back to the bed Yuuri got for her and put beside the back window, beside the heating vent.

He sighs, and looks at the two large suitcases in the living room.

They’re leaving tomorrow. It’s the twenty-seventh and they got a good deal and Yuuri’s never taken a vacation and Viktor can pass it off as a work thing and--

They’re taking two weeks and flying out to Hasetsu for the New Year and Viktor’s going to meet Mom and Dad and Mari and Yuuko and Minako and--

Yuuri takes a deep, steadying breath.

He looks at the time. Viktor will be home soon. They need to pack.

Yuuri pulls the laundry from the dryer and starts to fold.

Viktor, for all his myriad and beautiful talents, seemingly cannot put away laundry with a method more complex than using the hanger. Yuuri doesn’t mind too badly though; Viktor runs it through the washer and dryer and Yuuri will fold and put it all away. They split things like that. Yuuri will make dinner and Viktor will clean the kitchen. Yuuri will remember to clean the sheets every week and Viktor will remember to make the bed every day.

Yuuri hums to himself a little, nervously, as he folds their socks and underwear and shirts and pants and neatly stows it into their suitcases-- one for Viktor and one for Yuuri, plus carry-ons.

* * *

 

Viktor can feel it more clearly the closer he gets to home.

There are lots of reasons why Yuuri seeing a therapist is excellent, but perhaps Viktor’s favorite (and most selfishly) is that Viktor can feel the contented drum of Yuuri’s heart nearer and nearer when he walks home on Thursday. Yuuri’s heart is usually so fast; a beat and a half for each of Viktor’s. There’s something about Yuuri’s heart being quiescent as Viktor comes home in the evening that settles joy into his every bone and pore.

This evening, though, in the fast enveloping darkness of the pre-solstice sundown, Yuuri’s heart is twanging and shuddering overfast and anxious. Not quite the tempo for panic, but miles away from the relaxed feeling. Viktor rests his hand over his chest and rubs the place there, consumed by the vain hope that maybe he could soothe it from so many blocks away with the circling of his hand alone.

It comes and goes, this jangling nervousness, as Viktor approaches.

Winter on Earth is different. It’s shorter, the way most things are here, and the people take to it differently. There are lights strung on the houses in celebration and anticipation of a holiday. There is a smell of warm, toasted smoke on occasional streets. There is not a crawling despair but instead a different kind of joy and warmth and softness.

Viktor thinks he likes it. It has not yet snowed here, but Yuuri says it’s pretty likely that they’ll get some.

Viktor saunters down the wet, leaf strewn streets until he gets home and opens the door, where Yuuri sits on the living room floor, industriously fitting their laundry into the two suitcases they’re taking with them to Japan.

“ Yuuri,” Viktor says, softly, smiling because he cannot help to smile when he holds Yuuri’s name in his mouth. “It will be okay.”

“What if you get cold?” Yuuri asks. “I have a coat there I can use but--“

“I will be fine, Yuuri,” he says. “And if I am not? We will figure it out.”

Yuuri turns and looks at him, his beautiful eyes worried and wide.

“Vitya,” Yuuri says. “I’m so nervous.”

Viktor smiles again, a little broader. “I know, my sunlight.”

Yuuri sighs a little. Closes his eyes. Takes a deep breath and pulls his shoulders back, his spin straight and tall. “I’ve never brought anyone home before,” he says.

“I know,” Viktor says. He steps through the room and sits on the floor, crosslegged, beside Yuuri.

Yuuri takes another deep breath before he leans forward, through space, to rest his forehead against Viktor’s shoulder.

“Have you ever flown?” Yuuri asks.

Viktor shrugs. “I took the ship over to Earth, my Yuuri,” he says. “Can this be so different?”

Yuuri laughs.

“It’s smaller,” Yuuri says. “And it’s much less time.”

Viktor smiles again. “And it will be us, together, yes?”

Yuuri nods.

“Then this will be fine, my Yuuri,” Viktor says. “This will be more than fine-- this will be great, my Yuuri.”

“Is my heartbeat that bad?” He asks, his voice tired and small.

Viktor pulls his hand up, to cradle Yuuri’s round, lovely face. Yuuri shifts, sitting upward, looks at him. His glasses sit crooked on his face.

“Not bad,” Viktor says. “Never bad. Just nervous.”

Yuuri reaches up and takes his hand. Runs his fingers up and down Viktor’s palm, stroking firmly with his thumb.

“I’m nervous,” Yuuri says, laughing

Viktor nods. “Let’s finish packing, yes?” Viktor says.

Yuuri nods. “I’ll do the clothes, you do toiletries?” He asks.

“Of course,” Viktor says. He stays seated, looks at Yuuri for a long, lingering moment.

“I love you,” Viktor says.

Yuuri smiles. “I love you, too,” he answers.

 


	2. Chapter 2

They buckle into their seats for the flight and Yuuri immediately nests his hand into Viktor’s.

Viktor turns to look at him. Yuuri looks grimly, resolutely, forward. 

“I have my pill, in my case, if I need it,” he says, firmly. 

Airport security was strange and the airport itself was flush and busy with people rushing or waiting-- nothing in between. 

Boarding the plane was strange and sitting down is too-- all around them is a rushing and whirring, heavy on the dry air. 

Viktor squeezes Yuuri’s hand. 

Last night, they’d lain in bed together, nestled into each other’s arms. Viktor, studying Yuuri in the dark, the shape of his head and the feeling of his warm hands and arms. 

“I don’t like flying,” he’d said. “It makes me nervous.”

“It’s not just meeting your family,” Viktor had said, in the darkness between them, understanding.

“It’s okay if you have to use it,” Viktor says, now, to Yuuri. “If you have to sleep, I will be okay, Yuuri. I can take care of us.”

Yuuri purses his lips. He’s gone a little pale. Viktor can feel his heartbeat like fluttering wings in his chest. 

Yuuri nods. “I don’t want to leave you alone,” he says. 

“You aren’t,” Viktor says. 

Yuuri takes a deep, settling breath, before he reaches into his pocket and pulls out his small pillbox. Yuuri’s pillbox is beautiful; shiny gold back and sides with a lacquered bird on the front in livid, beautiful color. It’s an artful object, one Viktor is glad to see cradled in Yuuri’s fingers. 

He takes a pill stoically, dry. Tucks his pillbox back into his pocket. 

It will set in for him in about forty five minutes. Viktor holds his hand, nestles in closer to Yuuri. Rests his head atop Yuuri’s. Yuuri laughs a little at that, like he always does. 

“I won’t sleep through all of it,” Yuuri says. “Just some.”

“I’ll be right here, Yuuri,” Viktor says. 

A chime sounds overhead. A woman starts an announcement, each sentence first in English, then in Japanese, and finally in Varan. The flight they’re taking services Varan travelers-- generous leg and ceiling room for a premium, as Viktor understands it. The flight is split pretty evenly between Varan travelers, tall and purple-toned like Viktor, and well-heeled humans overwhelmingly in suits or nice clothes.

Viktor listens to the announcement and watches the safety presentation. Yuuri keeps his eyes closed and his breathing absolutely steady.

And then the sounds change and the air shifts and the engines roar and they  _ lift _ into the air.

Viktor looks over a Yuuri, whose eyes are clenched tight and whose breathing is ragged and irregular. 

Viktor holds his hand. Tries to stay steady with Yuuri’s pulse rocket-fast. 

But the plane levels out. And Yuuri’s eyes unclench and his hand relaxes. Lucid, but calm. Not tired, but soon. 

Viktor smiles at him. “Are you more comfortable?” He asks. They are the only ones in their row, a blessing. 

Yuuri nods. 

“They’re going to bring drinks, soon,” Yuuri says. “You would like ginger ale.”

“Of course,” Viktor says. “What would you like?”

Yuuri shrugs. “Water,” he says. 

“Okay,” Viktor answers. 

“I’m going to listen to some music,” Yuuri says. “I might fall asleep?”

Viktor nods. “I know,” he says. “Sleep some.”

Yuuri nods back. And time slips by.

* * *

 

Yuuri hates flying. It makes him feel compressed and shrunk, and everything’s out of his control and too much. 

He usually takes the pill at the airport and gets well and truly exhausted by the time he gets on the plane. Too tired to get agitated during takeoff and asleep by the time they’re cruising. It shaves six  hours off the ten hour flight, and the last four are usually manageable.  This is the longest he’s gone without the pill since the first time he flew, and he’d forgotten just how  _ awful _ flying makes him feel. He tries to calm down. To keep it together.

He takes a deep breath. 

But he eventually takes the pill and he settles down and he falls asleep and when he finally blinks awake again, Viktor is sitting beside him, folded over and reading a text for work. 

Yuuri blinks, looks at him, his long silver hair draped into his eyes, shaded by the strange light of the cabin.

“Viktor,” Yuuri murmurs. 

Viktor turns and looks at him. He smiles. “Did you sleep well?” he asks. 

Yuuri nods. “Still sleepy. How’s the flight?”

Viktor shrugs. “Long,” he says. “Are most movies as bad as the one they showed?” 

Yuuri shakes his head. “No,” he says. “Many of them are much worse.”

Viktor’s eyebrows make a mad dash for his hairline. “Maybe Yurio is right-- maybe this is a cultureless rock floating in uncaring space.”

“He doesn’t mean that,” Yuuri says. “He just likes to be contrary.”

Viktor raises his eyebrows again. “This word-- what does it mean?”

“He likes to be wrong,” Yuuri says. It’s not  _ entirely _ untrue, if a little ungenerous. 

Viktor smiles. He leans over and kisses Yuuri’s forehead gently. 

“ I’m glad you slept,” he says. “We only have a few hours to go.”

Yuuri smiles. “And then the train,” he says. 

Viktor shrugs. “We ride the train every day,” he says. “How different could this be?”

Yuuri laughs. 

Viktor takes his hand, gently. He turns back to his reading. Yuuri pulls out his own file folder to read from.

* * *

 

The first thing Viktor does when they land is turn on his phone and check his messages. 

They’ve left Makkachin with Yurio, who’s not just responsible but easy to contact and will stay at their house so she doesn’t get homesick. There’s no messages, which Viktor assumes must be good news. 

Yuuri wraps his hand into Viktor’s. Looks up at him, smiling. “She’ll be okay,” he says. 

Viktor smiles back. “My Yuuri,” he says. “So wise.”

Yuuri laughs a little, lightly. He shrugs his bag over his shoulder and steers his carry-on toward the baggage area. “Come on,” he says. “We have a train to catch.”

* * *

 

Yuuri flew back a couple of times in college, and this is different, but somehow the same. 

The distance is the same and the time is the same, but it’s also so much shorter. Viktor to help him find a seat and to watch the luggage while he goes to pee. Viktor to hold his hand and crack the occasional joke. Viktor to tease him a little, to try ginger ale for the first time and to look out the windows, at the oceans and clouds and country. 

Viktor to hold his hand. 

They pull into the station and Yuuri takes a deep breath. They grab their bags and depart from the train and ride the escalator up from the platform. 

“I don’t know who’s coming,” Yuuri says. “Someone’s going to pick us up-- probably--”

“Yuuri!” Minako calls, her voice clear and familiar and loud.    
She stands before the bank of escalators with a banner draped between her hands and a broad smile, her body pulled with one leg extended up into the air and her back curved. 

Yuuri waves. Keeps gripping Viktor’s hand. “Hi,” he greets. “Is it just you or--”   
“Your parents and Mari are at the Inn and Yuuko wants to see you but she had to run classes. I brought the van,” she says. 

Yuuri can see her notice Viktor, and then he can see her  _ realize _ Viktor.

“Is this--”   
“This is Viktor,” Yuuri says. 

“Hello!” Viktor greets, irrepressible and cheerful and loud. 

Minako looks at him for a long moment before she says, “You didn’t tell me he’d be so goddamn tall.”

“He doesn’t speak Japanese,” Yuuri says, in English. 

Minako looks from Viktor back to Yuuri. Raises her eyebrows.

Viktor extends his free hand forward. 

“I am Viktor Nikiforov,” he says, brightly. There’s a tone to his voice that Yuuri knows is  _ nervousness _ . “It is nice to meet you.”

Minako takes his hand. “Okukawa Minako,” she says. “Yuuri did not tell us you are so  _ tall _ .”

Yuuri regrets, suddenly, intensely, bringing Viktor home. 

Beside him, Viktor bursts into laughter. 


	3. Chapter 3

The ride into the town is strange. 

It’s different from the city-- the buildings are different and the people are different. Things are  _ different _ . Viktor isn’t sure how to articulate it; all of Earth feels so different and radical and strange to him. But there’s something else. There’s something of a texture. Something about the shape of the buildings. The smell of the ocean air. The way the sun has begun to clip slowly down. 

Viktor sits in the back of the van with Yuuri and watches out the windows in rapt fascination. 

The building doesn't look like anything Viktor has ever seen before. 

There’s a wooden gate with high walls and a curved roof that leads to a winding drive, leading up a steep hill to a deceptively tall two story building that sits wide to the ground. It looks low, a trick of the eye. All dark, old wood and sliding shutters and glowing windows in the dark, like eyes looking out into the rest of the world. 

Viktor watches Yuuri as he steps out of the van and stands and looks at it, something Viktor can’t quite read in his expression. Something to the particular tilt and crease of his eyebrows, something of his eyes. Yuuri’s duffle bag in slung over his shoulder and his hand rests on the bag and he looks at the building, as if searching. 

“Yuuri,” Okukawa says, from the other side of the car. She says something in Japanese, quick and angular. Yuuri nods. 

“ _ Hai _ ,” Yuuri murmurs. He looks at Viktor.

Viktor feels the speed of Yuuri’s heartbeat. 

Viktor tangles his hand into Yuuri’s. Squeezes his softly. 

Yuuri smiles, ever so slightly. 

“I haven’t been back in so long,” he says, his voice quiet. “Not since before college.”

“We can wait out here,” Viktor says, softly. “Just for a moment, if you need to.”

Yuuri swallows. Nods his head, absently. 

“I’m scared,” he whispers.

Viktor grasps his hand a little more firmly. 

Yuuri takes a deep breath. He steps forward, and Viktor goes with him. 

The door slides open, screen in front of a screen. The room inside is lit with golden, soft light. There’s the sound of a television playing softly. Some distant sound Viktor can’t quite place. People sitting around low tables, nursing small cups of something alcoholic. A display stand with plastic food growing dusty under yellow lights. A banner hung across a window into a kitchen. 

And then there’s the rapid sound of feet  _ racing _ on the floor and a woman who looks  _ just _ like Yuuri but smaller and rounder stops in front of them, her short, loose hair flying into her face, her round framed glasses sliding forward down her nose. She’s wearing red clothes made of cotton, a small apron in front of herself. She has a warm, bright smile on her face. 

“ _ Yuuri!”  _ She exclaims, her voice loud and bright and cheerful. She looks at Yuuri with something unrestrained and full, and then she bows, suddenly. 

Yuuri bows back. Says something quickly, in Japanese, before he rises back up. 

Yuuri settles his hand back into Viktor’s.

“ _ Okaa-san, _ ” Yuuri says, his voice soft and serious and scared in that way Yuuri uniquely can be. “This is Viktor.”

Viktor smiles and bows, folding himself in half. “My name is Viktor Nikiforov,” he says. He rises back up. 

She smiles. “Katsuki Hiroko,” she says. “ _ Okaerinasai.” _

Yuuri blinks a few times, looking at her.

“She says ‘welcome,’” Yuuri translates. Yuuri’s head crooks downward, maddeningly worried and shy. 

Viktor smiles at her.

She says something to Yuuri and Yuuri flushes to the roots of his hair. “She wants to braid your hair,” he says, his voice small.

Viktor turns back to her--  _ Katsuki Hiroko _ , Yuuri’s mother, who looks so much like him it’s stops Viktor’s heart a little-- and he smiles again, feeling it genuinely and large in his chest. Beside him, Yuuri takes a deep breath. 

He says something to his mother and she chuckles. She gestures for them to come inside and Viktor bends low under the long cedar beam that divides the entryway from the rest of the room. He slips out of his shoes and places them delicately in a cubbyhole, right beside Yuuri’s. Yuuri looks at the slippers for wearing inside, and back at Viktor’s feet.

“It’s okay,” Viktor says. “I wore socks.”

Yuuri huffs a small laugh. “We’ll find you some while you’re here,” he says. “You’ll get cold.”

Someone says something behind them, and Yuuri turns and laughs. There’s a woman with bleached blonde hair, in sunflower curls around her face. 

“Viktor,” Yuuri says. “This is my sister, Mari.”

Mari extends a hand forward. She has an expression that Yuuri shares but rarely uses, something mischievious and playful. 

“Very tall,” she says, shaking his hand.

_ “Mari!”  _ Yuuri exclaims in response, before saying something back in Japanese. 

Viktor smiles. He points up. “High ceilings,” he answers. 

She grins before she walks off, carrying their luggage. 

The room is built to a different scale than most of the buildings Viktor’s been in on Earth. The room fits him comfortably, but the furniture and surroundings are still to Yuuri’s height. Viktor stoops to look through windows and see over a bar into a kitchen. He crooks his head down as he follows Yuuri up a narrow flight of stairs and into a set of private rooms. Yuuri slides a door open and he stands there, for a long moment, before stepping in. 

Viktor does too. 

There’s a desk and a bookcase, both stocked with books Viktor can’t read the spines of. There’s a bed, narrow and small. 

There’s a few pictures of Yuuri. One or two of him in a school uniform, looking outrageously, wonderfully  _ young _ and  _ small _ . There’s a picture of him, a child, in a skating costume, holding a medal, missing a tooth. 

Viktor picks up the photo and studies it intently, overwhelmed. 

“Vitya?” Yuuri asks, peering up at him.

“You were so little,” Viktor whispers. He’s seen human children, he knows this, but the idea that  _ Yuuri _ \-- “Wow.”

Yuuri pulls their luggage over from the door to the bedside and opens his suitcase. Pulls out a medicine organizer and takes his pill. He takes a deep breath. 

“Mom said Dad had to run and get something in town, but he should be back soon,” he says. “Can I show you the rest of the inn? And the spring?”

Viktor nods, eagerly. 

Yuuri smiles. 


	4. Chapter 4

Yuuri wakes up before Viktor does, early in the morning, and looks at him across the sheets.

Moments like this are rare. Viktor usually sleeps less than Yuuri does; takes fewer naps and wakes up earlier, falls asleep later. It's rare to see Viktor relaxed, lost and slumbering like this. His eyes are closed and his expression is slack. His long, long hair is a messed halo around his face, strands curling and looping around him.

Viktor is too tall for Yuuri's bed, and the bed is nearly too narrow to fit both of them at once. It pulls Yuuri close to him, in a way that's different than how they sleep at home. Being back, it's so different.

When Yuuri imagined coming back to Hasetsu, it wasn't like this. He's not sure what he thought it would be like; it was never in his wildest dreams like this.

Yuuri looks at Viktor, sleeping, and he feels full of that strange amazement that they found each other. That they share a life together. That however many millions of billions of miles away they started-- born nestled in different parts of the galaxy-- that they still found each other, and that--

Yuuri gets up from the bed as carefully and quietly as he can.

Viktor stirs, just barely. He takes a deep breath, before settling down deeper into the blankets and pillows.

Yuuri pulls on a pair of sweats and steps out of his bedroom and heads down the hall.

The room is quiet and still. It always is. It's a small room, just above the kitchen. It's warm with leftover heat from the kitchen and the air is quiet. The morning sunlight filters in through the small windows.

Yuuri kneels, and looks at the shrine before him.

It's hard coming back.

The door opens behind him.

"Should have known you'd say hi to the dog," Mari says behind him.

Yuuri huffs a small sigh. "I didn't come back home," Yuuri says. He looks at the picture of Vicchan on the altar-- it's one of them together, when Yuuri was just a boy.

There's a flick of her lighter as she lights a cigarette.

Yuuri takes a deep breath. He sighs. He lets his eyes settle closed.

Mari stays there. Yuuri can feel her in the room there with him.

Yuuri opens his eyes. He looks up, at the scroll encased in the shrine.

"You should see Yuuko," she says. "You know she and Nishigori had kids."

Yuuri nods. "She sends pictures. We talk still," he says.

Yuuri feels, in the right side of his chest, Viktor's heart beat stir with waking. His hand darts there, to feel it back.

"There's breakfast downstairs," Mari says. "For you and the boyfriend."

"Thanks, Mari," Yuuri says.

She slips away, but the door stays open.

Yuuri sits there. Looks at the picture of Vicchan on the altar, at the bowl of rice left there for him and Yuuri's grandparents.

Yuuri sits there and feels it all.

"Yuuri?" Viktor says from the doorway, his voice sleepy, still waking.

"Vitya," Yuuri answers. "Come meet my dog."

Viktor's footfalls are soft on the floor, where he strides to Yuuri and sits down beside him on the floor.

Viktor looks at the butsudan for a long moment.

Yuuri wonders what he sees.

Viktor's hand is gentle where he reaches across to hold Yuuri's. His long fingers stroke over Yuuri's knuckles gently. Easily.

"What was his name?" VIktor asks.

"Vicchan," Yuuri says. "Uh, well, Victor."

Viktor's eyebrows raise, but he stays looking forward.

"That is very funny, Yuuri," Viktor says.

Yuuri huffs a short laugh.

"You don't-- you don't talk about him much," Viktor says. "What was he like?"

"Small," Yuuri says. "Uh, wiggly. He was always getting into stuff he wasn't supposed to."

Viktor turns, looks at Yuuri. His hair is a mess, long and unbrushed and unbraided. His eyes still look sleepy. His expression is fond. He yawns, covering his mouth with the crook of his elbow before blinking, looking back at the shrine.

"He died right before-- right before I retired, from skating," Yuuri says. "I found out, right before I took the ice at the final."

Viktor stays there, holding his hand.

"It had already been such a terrible season and then I found out and I just--" Yuuri takes a deep breath. His eyes close. "And I let everyone down, I guess."

"Oh, Yuuri," Viktor says.

"I don't-- I don't want sympathy, or anything," Yuuri says. "I just want you to...to know." Yuuri swallows. "It's hard to come back. I let everyone-- I let everyone down."

Viktor's hand is tight around Yuuri's own. His heartbeat is steady in Yuuri's chest.

"I do not think you are always fair with yourself," he says.

Yuuri doesn't say anything. What could he say back?

"I think it is easier for you to see the moments where you fall short of your goals instead of the beautiful, amazing, strong things you have done to reach them," Viktor continues. His voice is steady. "I looked this up. Just being there, at the final? This means you are one of the six greatest skaters of that year, no? But maybe skating is a harder accomplishment for you to see. What about your degrees, hm? Or your job at one of the most important museums on your world?"

Maybe Yuuri imagines it, but maybe Viktor leans over just a little bit, to be closer to him. Maybe Yuuri imagines it, but maybe he feels the press of Viktor's side against his shoulder. Maybe Yuuri imagines it. His eyes are closed at this point. It's easier like this, to make it harder for his ugly tears to slip out between the space in his eyelids.

"Or maybe how you're Makkachin's favorite-- she sleeps on your side of the bed, you know. Or how you always remember to bring me tea in the morning," he says. "I think maybe, those things you don't see."

Yuuri takes a deep breath. Feels Viktor's hand wrapped all the way around his. Feels the press of him against his side. Feels the very beating of his heart echoing through his body.

"Thank you, Vitya," Yuuri says.

"Of course, my heart," Viktor answers.

The sit there, together, for a while. Yuuri and Viktor and his grandparents and his dog.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> regular update schedule i don't know her


End file.
